


Flight of the Polymers

by Bimo



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Metaphysics, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bimo/pseuds/Bimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Data and Rory, and being plastic. Some conversations are doomed from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight of the Polymers

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Ladymercury_10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladymercury_10/pseuds/Ladymercury_10) in the [multiverse_2011](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/multiverse_2011) collection. 



> I would very much like to thank my beta, the wonderful KathyH, whose comments really hit the nail on the head! :)

FLIGHT OF THE POLYMERS

by Bimo

When they crossed paths, one sunny afternoon on a Risean beach, there was a brief moment of recognition – 0,00145273 seconds to be precise – in which Data realized he must have encountered the beach ball's owner before. Somewhere else, possibly in the bright, tingly place that, for lack of other words, other concepts, could only be described as the well of all positron dreams. _But, what now?_ Data wondered. To further investigate the strange sensation of familiarity that he had experienced by simply looking at this mid-twenty-ish, ashen-blond and obviously quite Human male? Or to better ignore the notion as a mere glitch in his system? That was the question.

Data was rather certain which approach Geordi would take. Or Counselor Troi for that matter. The most socially acceptable reaction among Humans, of course, would be to pick up the ball – an ordinary sphere-shaped plastic hull filled with air and suitable for all sorts of beach games – and to throw it back in the direction that it had come from. Oddly enough, or rather _un-oddly_ , just as Data did so, having precisely calculated all the involved factors such as distance and the strength and direction of wind, the toy's assumed owner, too, began to look increasingly puzzled. When the ball flew towards him, it was only at the very last moment that he reached out his arms – and failed to catch it.

"I believe this ball is yours, Sir?" Data asked.

"Um, yes. And sorry. My wife and I, we were just playing. I really didn't intend to hit you on the back of your head with it."

"No need to apologize."

After this rather hesitant exchange of words they curiously considered each other from head to toe, right to the coloured patterns of their respective bathing costumes. Commander Riker surely would have burst into laughter, so absurd was the situation. Captain Picard would have possibly frowned.

"You are an Android?"

"Yes, that observation is quite correct. And you used to be polymeric bioplast, at least for a while."

"Anything the matter, Rory?" a red-haired Human female in a bathing suit, obviously the afore mentioned wife, called from behind.

"No, everything's alright," Rory replied and then turned back towards Data. "I guess this must sound rather stupid. Your eyes, your skin… There are so many different Aliens running around on this beach that you could have been practically anything, any species. And yet I knew exactly what you are. Just as you _knew_ about the plastic thingy. We've… we've met each other before, someplace else, haven't we?"

"If your definition of the term _meeting_ also includes extrasensory perceptions in the philosophical sense, I would say, yes, we have. Would you by any chance be interested in discussing this phenomenon in a more elaborate manner?"

Already as he spoke, Data realized that he was not quite capable of conveying on how many different levels he would appreciate such an endeavour. The one-time polymer but now flesh-and-blood-again Rory shook his head. "Sorry, I don't think so, no. I'm afraid it's too personal," he said. Then he marched off in the direction of his wife, leaving the ball where it had fallen on the wet, surf-abraded sand.

Data stood silently for approximately 5,73591 minutes and watched the bright-blue plastic sphere getting carried away by the waves.


End file.
